Take Shelter
by xstormqueenx
Summary: After finding shelter within Alexandria's walls, it's only for Daryl to discover he has to break down Beth's walls. {Bethyl, AU}.
1. The Storm Within

**Author's Note:** Videos for characters canon and original, can be found on my Youtube channel via the link on my profile.

* * *

 **The Storm Within**

"What the hell you doin', Beth!?" Daryl growled, grabbing her sleeve as she strode past him.

"Let go of me!" Beth hissed, yanking herself free, the scissors cold against her skin, their blades about to be baptized by blood. _She_ had to do this, nobody else. Only _she_ understood; only _her_ spirit had been tempered for this moment.

Somehow she found herself in front of Dawn, feeling like she was about to fall, a chasm cracking open within her. But her hand was steady, ready to strike the very heart of hell itself…

"I get it now," Beth said quietly, her heart hammering in her chest, the blood a din in her ears.

But Dawn just tilted her head to the side, coldly contemplating Beth as though she were an insect. Beth just studied her in turn, the whole world hanging in the balance between them, and then she suddenly struck, a flash of silver fracturing the darkness.

* * *

Beth leaned back, the irregular rumble of the engine reverberating through her spine. Silence and sweat permeated the air, the others avoiding her questioning glance. Beth looked down at her bloodstained hands instead, a testament to what she'd become.

"You… you shouldn't have done what you did back there, Beth," Tyreese said quietly, finally daring to voice what they were all thinking.

Beth slowly raised her head, her gaze meeting Tyreese's grave one, her jaw tightening in unconscious response to the mounting tension. But she felt no regret for what she'd done, only relief that she'd done it. Dawn had had no intentions of letting them leave Grady alive, with or without Noah, hell-bent on having the upper hand to the very last, forcing Beth to act. With deadly precision, she had ended the war, stabbing Dawn through the throat with her own scissors.

"And why shouldn't I have done it?" Beth asked, her voice low and dangerous.

"Because you could have brought the whole place down on us!" Sasha suddenly exploded, the memory of Officer Shepherd's shouts to _STAND DOWN!_ still ringing through her skull.

"But I didn't, did I?" Beth said, shrugging her shoulder, infuriating Sasha even further.

"You were out of line, Beth," Sasha said from between gritted teeth, "utterly and completely," –

\- "Hey, you didn't know her like I did" –

\- "And you should _know_ your place!" Sasha spat, her vehemence silencing Beth, a shocked silence descending in the wake of her words.

"My _place_?" Beth then said, struggling to keep her voice steady.

"We risked our necks to get you and Carol out of there, and that was how you repaid us, with sheer, _selfish_ recklessness" –

\- "That's 'nough," Daryl said quietly, the hidden warning in his words making silence fall again.

Beth glanced down at her bloodstained hands once more, feeling the full weight of Daryl's gaze upon her, unwilling to bear its burden. From the moment she'd left Grady Memorial, she'd begun to distance herself from Daryl and the others, unable to give voice to the storm within. There were walls around her heart when there hadn't been before, a barrier that not even Maggie could breach. Her tentative bond with Daryl seemed to have been broken by separation, and what could have been, would now never be.

* * *

Beth threw another handful of dollar bills onto the fire, before wrapping her arms around herself, the cold night air biting into her bones. Maggie sat opposite her, the flames casting amber shadows across her worried face, Glenn taking her hand, a moment of silent communion passing between them, briefly stilling Maggie's torment. She didn't know how to reach her sister, how to come back from giving up on her, if she ever could.

"Hey," Noah said, sitting down beside Beth, startling her.

Beth hesitated. "Hey," she then said, averting her face from his.

"I… I just wanted to say, uh, thanks, for what you did," Noah said nervously, his voice cracking slightly, "for having my back like that."

"I promised to get you home," Beth said quietly, staring into the dying flames, "and I'm goin' to."

" _We're_ all going to get you home," Glenn interjected, making Noah glance up. For a moment, they stared at each other, and then Noah grinned shakily, a heartfelt thanks filling his face, his silence saying more than words could. Glenn nodded his head awkwardly, the corners of his lips quirking upwards slightly, and then he got up and walked away, embarrassed by Noah's gratitude, much to Beth's bitter amusement.

"Your brother-in-law's a good guy," Noah then said to Beth, uneasily noting the sullen way she watched Maggie stand up and follow her husband over to where he was now feigning to examine the van's engine by firelight.

"Yeah, whatever," Beth said abruptly, before getting to her own feet. "I'm turnin' in." But as she made her way over to the back doors of the van, Daryl blocked her path, his crossbow slung across his shoulder, a brace of squirrels over the other.

"Hey," he said uneasily, glancing over at Glenn and the others, "can… can we talk?"

Beth raised her eyebrows. " _You_ want to talk?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "That's a first."

Daryl flushed hotly, remembering the fight back at the moonshine shack.

"I've got nothin' to say," Beth said, barging him aside, "so back off, okay?"

Daryl watched her clamber into the back of the van, feeling like the ground had been cut out from under his feet, and then he turned and stalked back into the woods, seeking shelter from the storm.

 _Hey, where will you be waking up tomorrow morning?  
Hey, out the back door, goddamn  
But I love her anyways…_


	2. The Broken Road

**The Broken Road**

Beth lay there in the darkness, Daryl fast asleep beside her, Judith tucked under his arm, her big eyes surveying the gloom with mild interest. Rick was outside, keeping watch, having entrusted Daryl with his daughter, Carl keeping his father company. Everyone else was engaged in industry, cleaning weapons, checking the vehicles, their voices a harsh hush, the embers of the campfire burning low with their hope. Watching their silhouettes, Beth wrapped her arms around her head, trying to tear out the past that kept playing in her head like a rerun, her father dying, the falling sky, Gorman's hands on her, every memory edged with blood, turning tomorrow crimson.

Without thinking, she turned around, huddling against Daryl's back, her brow brushing his spine, making him stir. She held her breath, waiting for him to wake up, but he didn't, only sliding deeper into slumber, exhaustion etched in his bones. Beth closed her eyes, holding onto all she that had left, the world reduced to the heart-beat dividing him from her. She didn't want to drive Daryl away, but that was exactly what she was doing, lashing out at the slightest thing he said, even as he tried to help her. But nobody could help her, not Daryl, not Maggie, not anyone. Grady Memorial had done something to her, fracturing her faith, scarring her soul.

"Daryl?" Beth whispered, her voice cracking.

"Worrit is it?" he mumbled, Judith gibbering in response.

"Nothin'," Beth mumbled back, making to turn back around again, only to stop as Daryl spoke up.

"What's on your mind, girl?" he asked quietly, not looking at her.

"Nothin'," Beth repeated, her voice cracking.

"Nothin' or not, I'm... I'm here," Daryl said gruffly, smothering a yawn. "Remember that."

Beth studied the stitched wings of his leather vest, the fabric frayed, worn. Unthinkingly, she reached out to him, only for her fingers to falter, stopping short of his shoulder. "I... I remember," she whispered, before turning her back on him, her hands clenching by her sides, ever empty, ever alone.

* * *

Daryl stamped the last smouldering remains of the fire out, damning the embers to oblivion. The smell of roasting meat still hung in the air, clinging to his clothes, making his stomach rumble. Despite bringing back a brace of rabbits, there hadn't been enough to go round, Daryl foregoing his portion to give to Beth. She had accepted his offering against her will, her lips thinning, jaw tightening, but something in his eyes had stopped her from objecting out loud. Now she was finger-combing out the tangles of her long hair, Judith watching from Carl's arms with wide-eyed wonder, Beth blowing her a kiss, making Daryl stop in his tracks at the now rare softness present in her scarred face.

Ever since they'd left Grady Memorial, Beth had become a closed book, withdrawing into her own world. It struck Daryl, not for the first time, that it was an odd reversal of positions, but as he watched her braid her hair back, her face falling into its unusually usual hard lines, he bit his tongue, biding his time. He would bring Beth back from the brink, but she had to take the first step herself. That was what she had taught him, that it had to be him who stepped back from the edge. Last night, when she'd spoken to him, the darkness destroying what divided them, he'd sensed she was almost taking that step, only to stop, falling silent instead.

"Hey," he said gruffly, making her glance up.

Beth studied him, hands halting, her braid half done. "Hey," she said hesitantly, resuming her braiding.

"You okay?" he said quietly, shifting awkwardly on the spot.

"Would you stop fussin'?" Beth snapped. "I'm alive, ain't I?"

Daryl looked away, rage rising in him.

"I'm not some china doll, Daryl," Beth said, snapping the elastic around the end of her plait. "I'm not gonna break if you happen to just blink in my direction."

"Yeah, whatever," Daryl said, picking up his crossbow. "You keep tellin' yourself that." As he made to leave, Beth stepped in front of him, her blue eyes blazing in her bloodless face.

"I don't know what your problem is," she hissed, her nostrils flaring, "but you better back off, yeah?"

"You're my fuckin' problem," Daryl hissed back, losing control of himself, "you an' that chip on your shoulder that's the size of goddamn Texas."

"I'm not 'your problem'," Beth retorted, curling her fingers into sarcastic punctuation marks. "You ain't my mother."

"I ain't exactly the maternal type," Daryl spat, "but I don't fancy haulin' your sulky ass all the way to Washington. Thin's is bad enough without havin' to wake up to your sour face. Shit happens, so get over it."

Beth swayed on the spot, remembering the flash of a sword; Daryl yelling her name in the darkness; Gorman's hands on her, roaming, invading. _Get over it._ How could she get over hell? How could she climb its chasms? She wasn't strong enough to scale their heights. She'd thought she was, but surviving didn't make her strong. Survival was merely a favour granted by fate. She was here, but it wasn't enough, not when she was drowning in darkness.

* * *

The group pitched up camp at a motel on the outskirts of Georgia, Rick leaving Judith in Beth's care. The responsibility sat ill on Beth's shoulders. She had blood on her hands, hands that had only healed and helped before, and to care for a child with these hands felt wrong. But this is what she had become, and she could either accept it or fight what couldn't be fought. Humming under her breath, she dropped a kiss on Judith's brow, trying to seek sanctuary in innocence, holding onto the last of hope. Judith was all but hers, the child she'd always wanted, what she would always risk her life for.

"I love you, baby girl," she whispered, gently leaning her cheek against Judith's downy head. Pacing the worn carpet, she continued to hum, the melody making Judith's eyes flicker, then close, the sound reassuring her in the same way Rick's voice did. Sighing heavily, Beth sat down on an old armchair, the springs creaking in protest. Her gaze travelled over the rest of the room, taking in the tacky decor, before coming to a rest on the barricaded door. The others were elsewhere, making sure the motel was secure, Sasha taking first watch, her rifle ever raised, her eyes always on the alert.

Beth slumped back in her seat, making Judith stir sleepily in her arms. This was what she had wanted, to back with her family. The longing to return to them had fuelled her fight against Grady Memorial, driving her to the edge of death, but against the odds, she'd won out. Her faith in Daryl in finding her had never faltered, but she'd had the sense to try and save herself first, only to save them all in the end. Even as the others still glanced askance at her, she didn't regret killing Dawn, even as she recoiled from the remembrance.

She sat there for a while, thinking of her father, of having to face a future without him, remembering a past where he was present. This world had made him a better man, filing down his flaws, bringing out the best of him; his kindness, his intrinsic courage. But all that was gone, his remains left to rot; all that he'd helped create out of the chaos lying in ruins around him.

To her, it was Rick's fault; he had hesitated, time and time again. He should have killed Philip Blake a long time ago, instead of giving the Governor the chance to destroy what they'd shed blood to build. And now here they were, about to embark on a journey into the unknown. What awaited them in Washington, she didn't know. Eugene's lies about a cure there had mattered little to her; her hope was for the broken road that lay ahead for her and her family.

 _We're roamin' around on this wasteland_  
 _Dust in the sky, dust on our minds_  
 _Broken fools on a road to nowhere_  
 _Feels like there there's no way back home_


	3. Where The Wind Don't Change

**Where The Wind Don't Change**

 _Three weeks later_

The road stretched into oblivion before them, Beth dragging her cowboy boots across the baking ground, each step feeling like it was going to be her last. Her desire to help Noah get home had led to a dead end, the walled community they'd gambled everything upon reduced to ruin, Rick forcing them onwards even as they began to end. They'd lost Tyreese at Richmond, burying him by the side of the road, his beanie hat left hanging on the edge of a spade left embedded in the earth, forming a makeshift marker.

The image was engraved on her mind, representing all that they'd risked, summing up her sins. Richmond was just another pit-stop in her road to ruin, dragging the others down into the depths of hell with her. Where she went, they followed, like Daryl following a black car with a white cross into the darkness. And so they staggered on, the sun beating down on their bare heads, Judith's reedy wail shattering the silence into smithereens.

"Beth."

She turned around, only to see Rick, his eyes astonishingly blue against the backdrop of his weathered face. His gaze met and held hers, and unbidden she remembered the flash of silver, her father falling, their world falling with him.

"You can come back from this," Rick said quietly, "you have to."

But Beth just focused on the far horizon, his words spilling like her father's blood on barren ground. There was just some things you couldn't come back from.

* * *

Beth stood there, staring down at herself, recognizing the pale hair and bound wrists with an almost detached wonder. The Walker's white gaze locked with hers almost imploringly, making Beth muse if she'd done the same thing, silently pleading with her captors to let her go, _I promise I won't tell anyone_. But there'd been nobody to tell, only emptiness.

She couldn't remember much of that night where she'd lost Daryl and herself, only glimpsing the ghosts of her past, dreaming of the shadowy silhouettes of the gravestones against the black backdrop of night; the uneven beat of her feet over the damp grass. There had been Walkers everywhere, the world suddenly tilting sideways, Beth descending into darkness, Daryl's name on her lips, a wordless cry nobody heard or heeded.

But she didn't need to remember; not now. That Beth was now before her, bound and gagged, bundled into the boot of a car, taken from all that she had left. The only difference between both Beths was that _she_ was defiantly alive. Her heart was broken, but it still beat its steady rhythm all the same. Beth tilted her head to the side, her tangled hair falling across her face, her bitter gaze noting the deep bite-mark on the other Beth's neck. They were both victims, suffering at the hands of the dead and the living, scarred by their savagery.

Without a word, she pulled out her knife, before putting herself down. But there was no purging of her pain, only a dull acceptance of its existence. Slamming the boot down, entombing her other self, Beth turned away from the car, only to see Daryl standing a few feet away, his hooded stare striking her like a snake. She stood her ground, forcing him to look away, Beth watching as he then headed into the woods, the sight of his hunched shoulders setting off her conscience like a spark to tinder.

But she crushed it down, refusing to feel, to face what she was becoming. She didn't need to, only knowing she was leaving herself behind in the boot of that car, Beth dying even as she lived.

* * *

Beth leaned her head back against the wall, the planks of wood digging into her spine, the rain beating out a staccato rhythm against the roof. The others were huddled around the dying fire, the flickering flames painting shadows across their pale faces. She glanced up as Daryl came over, his every footstep measured, echoing oddly through the still air.

"Hey," he said quietly, carefully setting down his crossbow against the wall, along with his battered canvas bag, before sitting down beside her, their elbows brushing accidentally, making Beth edge away from him.

"Hey," Beth said, her voice cracking slightly.

"You should get sum shut-eye," Daryl suggested gruffly, "s'kay to rest now."

"I'm not tired," Beth snapped, belying the dark circles beneath her eyes.

"Well, I am," Daryl snapped back, "so hush your mouth." With that, he turned and lay down on the ground, Beth studying him for a moment, before doing the same, so they were face to face, close enough for Beth to see the smoky flecks of grey in Daryl's eyes, her fingers fighting the urge to trace the broken outline of his harsh features.

With moonrise, she would always find him by her side, and she would always find herself by his, something drawing them together, something that had started back in that candle-lit kitchen so long ago. But as night fell, Beth would begin to fall too, the darkness giving way to dreams that burned the dead heart out of her, Daryl throwing himself into the fray after her, dragging her from her demons, waking her up with brutal words, one time slapping her into semblance.

She had struck him back, pummeling him with her fists, Daryl letting her, knowing she needed this. It was Beth's nature to fight back, and when she couldn't, when she was cornered and corralled, it did something to her, bringing her to the brink of breaking. Under that sweet surface was a storm ready to rain hell down on everyone.

"You's tough Beth," Daryl said slowly, his gaze searching her scarred face, "tougher than elephan's hide, I's say."

Beth just scoffed, remembering her useless tears.

"You are," Daryl said firmly, "j'st like your dad. You're a goddamn chip off the ole block, kid, ain't no point in denyin' it."

Beth's lips trembled at this, Daryl instantly regretting his words, wishing he could take them back. He was trying to bolster Beth up, not break her. Exhaling sharply, he sat up, reaching for his rough canvas bag, curiosity catching Beth despite herself. "What you doin'?" she asked, brow furrowing slightly.

"I's... I's got somethin' for ya," Daryl said uneasily, rummaging through the canvas bag, the heat beginning to build up along the back of his neck.

"What, a present?" Beth said, taken aback, sitting up in shock.

"Somethin' like tha'," Daryl said evasively, his fingers closing around what he had been trying to find. Half turning away from Beth, he handed it over to her, unable to meet her eyes, half wondering at himself at what he was doing.

Beth swallowed hard, battling the tears that had suddenly sprung to her eyes. "It's... it's beautiful," she said quietly, holding the battered music-box between her hands, before gently opening the lid, only to find a broken ballerina perched precariously on its stand.

"It – it plays," Daryl said awkwardly, shaking back his shaggy hair, the tips of his ears turning red, "gearbox had some grit in it."

Wordlessly, Beth wound it up, watching with almost wide-eyed wonder as the ballerina began to dance with broken grace, the fractured melody filling the air. Daryl watched Beth's face in turn, all his heart had secretly begun to hope for, Beth glancing up, feeling the full weight of his stare, only to see what might save her, a heart hers for the taking if she just reached out -

\- "Don't play that damned thin' all night," Daryl said roughly, lying back down, "some of us have work in the mornin'."

"Yes, Mr. Dixon," Beth sing-songed sarcastically, before carefully closing the lid, cutting its song off. She lay down beside Daryl, clutching the music-box in her hand, holding onto all she had left, the ghost of her hope dying even as it lived.

 _I had a one-way ticket to a place where all the demons go_  
 _Where the wind don't change_  
 _And nothing in the ground can ever grow_  
 _No hope, just lies_  
 _And you're taught to cry in your pillow_  
 _But I'll survive..._


End file.
